


A little soup never hurts

by trophy_fish



Series: once, twice, three times a sniffle [1]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Ian Gallagher - Freeform, M/M, Mickey Milkovich - Freeform, Season1, Sick Mickey, hints at abuse, season1 dynamics, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4877641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trophy_fish/pseuds/trophy_fish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Very early in their relationship, mickey gets sick, ian tries to help as much as he can but mickey keeps his distance. at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A little soup never hurts

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first post so i hope it goes over well!

“Hey” Ian smiled When he saw Mickey approaching. Mickey had said he would meet him on the rooftops in twenty minutes….it had been 40 but it wasn’t worth the argument. That, and Ian knew enough about the Milkovich household to know that he might not want to the story behind Mickey’s late arrival.

But here he was now, scowling and adorned with scattered bruises as always, and Ian wouldnt want him any other way. But as he came closer it became clear that something was wrong. Ian’s brows furrowed but before he could ask Mickey spoke.

“Look, I can’t bone today” he wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Ian’s could tell from his voice he was sick. It was raw and much quieter than usual and his nose was a subtle shade of red, also raw. Of course he was pale, and a certain darkness under his eyes revealed his insomnia, but he was always that way.

“Yeah, you look like shit” Ian quipped, but his voice carried subtle concern. Not that he was actually worried, but a part of him wanted to bring him home and take care of him. Purely because he knew a nurturing hand was the last thing waiting for him at his own home.

Something about the way Mickey distanced himself from Ian, made him self so unobtainable made Ian want him more. He had him, they we’re each other’s for an hour or two almost every day now but it was quickly becoming not enough. Because even when Mickey was with him. He was never truly with him.

“Fuck off man” Mickey scoffed and took a drag from his cigarette. Turning on his heel he started to leave just the way he had come; head lowered but walking confidently. But without another thought Ian was jogging to catch up to him,quickly matching his pace and walking beside him.

“We’ve still got time to kill” Ian offered, knowing exactly what he was seting himself up for but he persisted anyway.

“I feel like shit. I said I can’t fuck” Mickey answered, without taking the time to look over at him or even slow his stride.

“We’ve got some chicken broth at my place….its like two years old but it hasn’t been used yet” Ian explained, testing his stubborness against Mickey’s. He was always up for a challenge.

“Relax nurse Gallagher” Mickey bit coldly. “I’m fine.”

Ian sighed and stopped walking. He refused to believe Mickey didn’t want him for anything besides sex, though he did a damn good job of acting that way.

* * *

 

However Ian wasn’t one who gave up so easily, and he was far from giving up on Mickey. So after making sure his younger siblings were sleeping soundly in their beds and his older siblings were preoccupied with lovers of their own, Ian searched the kitchen for that broth he had mentioned earlier. But instead he found something better, a can of chicken noodle soup. Ian smiled not even Mickey could say no to warm soup.

 

So before someone could ask where he was going, he headed out the door with a thermos of hot soup stinging his hand. It was a short walk to the Milkovich house where he hopped up the steps eagerly and made his way to the door, hesitating just a moment before knocking. He could hear people inside stirring, but still the door opened abruptly and much sooner than Ian had been expecting. Low and behold it was Mickey, looking even more worn out than he had before. He was even more pale than usual if it were possible, and on his forehead were a few beads of feverish sweat. Still that wasn’t what worried Ian. His eyes, were just slightly widened as if he had seen a ghost or something much much worse.

“…what the fuck are ya’ doin’ here?” Mickey asked when he realized an explanation was coming nearly soon enough. Suddenly Ian found his voice again.

“Yeah yeah” he nodded. “I brought you some soup, chicken noodle” he explained and held out the thermos. Mickey’s eyes glanced down at the thermos then back to Ian’s green eyes as if the gesture was completely foreign to him. No, it was completely foreign to him.

Ian waited anxiously for him to take it, or to tell Ian to get lost. Something. Anything. But instead he just looked down at the thermos again then over his shoulder and inside the house. Ian’s concern grew with each passing moment that Mickey stayed silent Ian’s concern grew.

But soon enough the lull passed and thank god it did. Mickey stepped outside, closing the door behind him. For a moment they stood close each other, they’re faces just inches apart before Mickey pushed passed him.

“Give me that” he said, turning back to Ian and taking the thermos. “lets go” he nodded, and Ian began to walk beside him. Where they were going, didn’t matter but they were going together. Ian knew better than to ask about what had been happening back there.

“So you’re not feeling any better?” Ian asked as they walked, though he already knew the answer. Mickey just shook his head, and lit up a cigarette. “Yeah, fevers always get worse at night” Ian explained as he watched Mickey unscrew the top of the thermos and take a sip of the soup.

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing how it warmed his chest and throat. He wouldn’t admit just how soothing it was, or how grateful he was that Ian came.

“….But the fevers not really the problem is it?” Ian shouldn’t have said it, told himself not to say it but failed to stop himself. He regretted it the moment the words left his lips, and watched Mickey carefully for his reaction, unsure what to expect.

Luckily for Ian the question took Mickey off guard as well. “…what the fuck did you just say?” Mickey asked slowly, turning to give Ian a confused and slightly betrayed stare.

Ian shook his head “Nothing” if only that had been true. “It..was stupid” Ian knew that the fact that he wasn’t feeling the effects of a punch across the jaw was a testament to just how shitty Mickey must be feeling.

“You bet your ass it was” Mickey muttered and tasted the soup once more.

For the rest of their walk the two of them kept quiet and though they never really made amends the tension between them faded and for one a time, whether it be for just one night things were simple, things were easy.

By time they rounded the block and ended up back at Mickey’s house they had grown closer together, literally. Without realizing it they had slowly begun to walk closer and closer together and by time their walk had drawn to a close their shoulders were over lapping just slightly, Ian’s behind Mickey’s, sharing each other’s warmth. Mickey stopped once they approached his house, then Ian.

When Mickey turned around to face Ian, he shoved the empty thermos into his hands before the other could say something. He didn’t want to break the silence, things were perfect, right now, this way, without either of them saying a word. But he knew Ian, and he knew Ian and he knew Ian would say something. Something stupid, and sweet, and obnoxious. But that wasn’t the problem, it would simply require Mickey to say something in return, and that was the problem.

So he turned and headed up the stairs to his house before Ian could speak a word. He glanced back over his shoulder one last time before closing the door.


End file.
